


Without Masks (The Shower Fun Remix)

by Veldeia



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Early in Canon, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Remix, Secret Identity, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veldeia/pseuds/Veldeia
Summary: After a mission that brings up too many memories, Steve isn't having a good evening, but then Iron Man shows up, and it turns into one of the most memorable he's ever had.





	Without Masks (The Shower Fun Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adarksweetness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adarksweetness/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Stony Bingo fill for "Vulnerability"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/359577) by maniibear. 
  * In response to a prompt by [adarksweetness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adarksweetness/pseuds/adarksweetness) in the [Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2018) collection. 



> Being a remix for this beautiful [art](http://maniibear.tumblr.com/post/161245052557/for-stony-2017-bingo-square-s5-vulnerability) by [maniibear](http://maniibear.tumblr.com/) / [adarksweetness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chayaasi/pseuds/adarksweetness), written for the Captain America/Iron Man Remix Madness 2018. With beta thanks to Robin!

Showing weakness wasn't something Steve did. He'd spent his life hiding it. First as a skinny, sickly young man who wanted to defend what he thought was right, then as Captain America, the perfect example of a patriotic soldier, an inspiration to all his fellow men on the battlefield. He'd always done his best to stand up for what he believed in, and to do that, he'd had to hold his ground, wearing a brave face even when he was full of fear or despair.

The truth was, of course, that he was only human, and sometimes things were too much. Those times, he withdrew, locked the doors and didn't let anyone see. Sometimes he cried.

He didn't mind getting hurt himself. He'd been injured in the line of duty more often than he could count, and he knew the pain was temporary. The cuts and bruises he had on his skin now would be fading by tomorrow. He kept forgetting he even had them; none were bleeding anymore, but he'd left a few stains on the tiles, and every time he saw them, they took him by surprise.

What he couldn't forget were the faces of the people who had gotten hurt because of him. Today had been particularly bad because they'd only been a few minutes too late. If they'd just been those crucial minutes faster in Assembling, no one would've gotten hurt. They would need to practice harder. Shave off all the extra time they could.

There had been many elderly people among the wounded, people who were the age Steve would be now if he hadn't ended up in the ice. Some of them might've been veterans. Steve had thought one man had even looked vaguely familiar, like they might have met in his past life. He'd reached out towards Steve, his hand covered in blood from where he'd clutched the bullet wound in his side, the fear deep in his eyes.

That image brought up so many other memories, calling to mind all those men and women he'd served with in the War who had died while he had lived. Both the ones he had known well, like Bucky, falling from that plane, and the ones he'd never even talked to, but who had still had their lives and their stories, and loved ones they'd left behind when they'd given their lives to serve their country.

He'd seen so much blood and death and destruction that sometimes he wondered how he stayed sane at all.

Steve leaned his head against the shower wall, his eyes closed, letting the spray trickle over his face, as if it could wash away the harrowing memories like it did the bloodstains. Even though the water was warm and the floor tiles below him heated, he still shivered.

A voice from the room outside brought him out of his gloomy thoughts; a unique one with a metallic echo that he would recognize anywhere. "Cap? Are you there? Are you okay?"

There were very few people Steve would allow to see him when he was like this, but here was one of them. Iron Man, his first and best friend in the future. The one he'd wished, once upon a time, he could be more than friends with, but when he'd taken the bold step and actually asked him, those dreams had been instantly crushed. Iron Man had said that he would love nothing more, but he couldn't. His secret identity was too important to him. He couldn't get involved. Not ever. Not even with Steve.

Steve reached up to turn off the shower, then sat back down on the floor again. He knew he was a mess, his skin dripping wet, his hair plastered against his head because he hadn't actually washed it. His eyes probably looked like he'd been in tears. He tucked his knees up to his chest and his arms around them, facing away from the door.

A part of him wanted to tell Iron Man to go away, because he didn't want the man to think less of him, but the need for friendly company and conversation won over.

"In here," Steve called out.

"Can I come in?" came the cautious reply.

"Yeah, please do."

The bathroom door opened, and the always-impressive red-and-gold figure stepped through it, looking bigger than usual and out of place in the everyday surroundings of Steve's bathroom. "I didn't mean to intrude," Iron Man said. "I just wanted to check if you were all right, and you didn't answer your door, so I let myself in to make sure."

"It's okay, Shellhead. I don't mind," Steve said, offering him a tired smile.

Iron Man grabbed the towel Steve had left hanging in the hook by the mirror and knelt by his side, wrapping it over his shoulders. Steve relished the touch of his hands, even if they were metal-covered.

He half expected Iron Man to start fussing about his injuries, but instead, he stayed close to Steve, in something that very much resembled a hug, one arm around Steve's back. Then, to Steve's astonishment, he took off his gauntlets.

Steve had never seen any part of Iron Man without the armor before this. His hands had long, slender fingers, and they were scarred and callused in a manner that spoke of hard work. That made sense; Iron Man had mentioned he often worked together with Tony Stark on the armor, and he'd shown his mechanical skills on the field many times.

Iron Man placed his now bare hands back on Steve's shoulders. It was exactly the kind of comforting human touch he'd craved. This wordless understanding between them was one of the things that made his friendship with Iron Man so special to him.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Iron Man asked. He didn't need to elaborate. They'd both been out there, on that mission, and Iron Man clearly hadn't missed that it had left Steve shaken, that he’d retreated to hide as soon as he could.

"Not really." Steve by far preferred the fascination of Iron Man's bare hands over those terrible memories he'd been struggling with. He tried to keep them in the background, focusing instead on the weight of those fingers, letting it anchor him in the present.

"Would you like me to take your mind off it, instead?" There was a new note to Iron Man's voice as he asked that, something Steve didn't think he'd ever heard before. Hopeful, but tense.

He couldn't possibly mean it like Steve thought. Steve tried to push away the completely inappropriate thoughts as fast as they came. Iron Man had made it clear that anything past friendship was not on the table for them, and never would be.

Steve swallowed. "How do you mean?"

"I have some ideas," Iron Man said. "If you're interested."

"I might be," Steve said cautiously.

He had to be wrong about this. Iron Man couldn't be flirting with him. He couldn't be offering what Steve thought he might be. Suddenly, Steve's heart was pounding, and he found himself wishing he wasn't naked, because the mere thought of Iron Man, still mostly armor-clad, touching him in a completely different way was a turn-on like nothing else Steve could imagine.

Iron Man's reply was enough to confirm he meant everything Steve was hoping for: he slid one hand along Steve's shoulder to cup his face in a gesture that was suggestive and affectionate at the same time. Steve turned his head and kissed Iron Man's bare palm; Iron Man let out a sigh that Steve could hear even through his helmet.

"I thought you said we couldn't," Steve breathed.

The situation had suddenly turned completely unreal, and yet, he could feel the floor beneath his buttocks, the terry cloth of the towel covering his shoulders, and the hard surface of Iron Man's armor behind his back. And he could feel the warmth of Iron Man's bare fingers against his cheek, which was enough to make the discomfort meaningless.

"I reconsidered," Iron Man said. "Now, I'm going to take off my helmet. I need you to promise you won't try to look."

It was like some antique myth. Steve could have what he wanted, as long as he didn't look. He hoped against hope that one day he could yet see Iron Man's face, but today, he wasn't about to press the matter. "I won't," he said solemnly.

"I'd also prefer not to talk when I'm not wearing it," Iron Man went on, "so there's another important rule. If I do anything you don't want, anything you don't like, tell me and I will stop. Can you promise that, too?"

"Of course," Steve said.

He was tense all over with the anticipation. He stretched out his legs in front of him, making his hardening cock much more visible. If Iron Man had had any doubts about what Steve expected, that should make it quite clear.

There was a soft, metallic click behind him: the helmet detaching from the rest of the armor. Iron Man set it down on the ground by his gauntlets. All Steve would have to do would be to turn his head slightly, and he'd see Iron Man's face. It would be so easy, and he wanted it so badly, but he'd promised, and he kept his promises. He knew from experience how difficult it was to deal with secret identities. He wouldn't betray Iron Man's trust. He kept his eyes on the wall in front of him.

Iron Man's hands settled on Steve's shoulders again, and then his lips were pressing softly against the back of Steve's neck, right at his hairline. He felt Iron Man's breathing against his skin, intimate and perfectly human, now that the layer of metal that had always separated them was finally lifted aside.

Every trace of the earlier unhappy thoughts and bad memories was completely gone by now.

Iron Man shifted his hands, letting them slide over to Steve's front, running them down his chest and up again, his thumbs brushing against Steve's nipples.

Steve shuddered and leaned back against Iron Man; he could feel the hard ridges of the armor through the towel still on his shoulders, but it wasn't too uncomfortable. Even if he wouldn't like to stay in this position for a long time, for now, there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

The way Iron Man was touching him was almost reverent, like he was trying to memorize the outline of each muscle, tracing the still wet skin of Steve's abs, over his sides, then back up again, across his ribs. This time, he pinched the nipples between his fingers with both hands, though it was a tentative touch. He didn't speak a word, and yet Steve could tell this was a question.

"Yes. Yes, that's good," Steve told him. "I like that."

In response, Iron Man squeezed Steve's nipples harder, enough to make him squirm and throw his head back, gasping with pleasure. With the sudden movement, his head ended up next to Iron Man's, their cheeks touching. Instantly, Iron Man let go with one hand, and brought it up to cover Steve's eyes. They had been closed, anyway.

"Don't worry, I won't break my promise. I won't look," Steve reassured him. His voice sounded husky in his own ears.

Iron Man pressed a kiss on Steve's cheek—there was a ticklish feeling there revealing that he had facial hair, maybe a moustache—and then pulled back his head, settling with his forehead against the back of Steve's skull. Then, he went back to his exploration; while his right hand stayed on Steve's nipple, teasing, his left hand continued to map every square inch of Steve's skin in featherlight touches, first only above his waist, until finally, finally, he let it pass over Steve's hip bones, to his thigh, and then to his cock, only just brushing against the shaft.

"Yes, please," Steve moaned, just in case Iron Man had any doubts about whether he was comfortable with this.

Steve wasn't sure he'd ever been this hard from touches that were so light and cautious, but then, this wasn't like any other sexual encounter he'd ever had. This was Iron Man, the friend who understood him almost perfectly even without words, the one he'd trust with his life without hesitation. Iron Man, still wearing most of his armor, his arms covered in golden mesh up to the wrists, the legs stretched out next to Steve's wearing boots of shiny red metal.

"Keep going," Steve added. "Touch me."

Iron Man did, tracing the length of Steve's cock in the same cautious way he'd been touching everything else, then smearing the pre-come at the tip all over his shaft, and wrapping his fingers around it to give it a tentative stroke. It was nothing at all like the rough way Steve would touch himself when jacking off, and yet, it felt a thousand times more exciting.

Steve still couldn't quite believe this was happening; Iron Man's bare hand on his cock, Iron Man's nose and lips at the back of his neck, his breathing light and fast against Steve's skin.

Iron Man's other hand, the one that had still been higher up, teasing Steve's nipple, let go now, and to Steve's surprise, took hold of Steve's right hand to bring that to his cock as well.

It seemed like another wordless message to Steve. "You want me to show you? Tell you how I like it?" he checked.

The shifting of Iron Man's head behind Steve's was clearly a nod.

Steve folded his and Iron Man's fingers together, tight around his cock, the way he liked it best. Iron Man's hand was under his, so even though he guided the movements, it was Iron Man's calloused fingers that were rubbing against his skin. Iron Man's free hand traveled upwards, taking hold of his nipple again.

Steve moaned at the combined sensations. He wanted this to last; it was like a dream come true that he didn't want to wake up from, but he was so very close already.

He couldn't help throwing his head back again, his spine arching. Iron Man shifted out of the way, so Steve wouldn't bash his nose in, and as he did, his lips found their way to Steve's neck, below his jaw, licking and sucking, like he was so lost in the moment he didn't care if Steve could see his face.

It wasn't all those combined sensations of hands on his cock and nipple and lips against his throat that did it; it was the thought that Iron Man was enjoying this as well, wanting Steve so badly he'd let go of his almost paranoid caution to give Steve this moment of pleasure—

His eyes still tightly closed, with a wordless groan of pleasure, Steve came. Iron Man held him as he did, the hand on his chest now just hugging him close, his face nuzzled against Steve's neck.

They stayed like that for a long while, Steve resting against Iron Man. He could feel Iron Man's chest rise and fall behind his back, and Iron Man's hand was gently caressing his side. He didn't want to move, didn't want this moment to end, but he knew it would, inevitably, like all dreams and fairytales did.

All too soon, Iron Man sat up straight, picked up his helmet, and clicked it back into place. "Was that okay? Feeling better?" he asked. Even though there was warmth in the metallic voice, it still sounded at odds with the tender way he'd been touching Steve.

"So much. Thank you," Steve replied. "That was—that really was something else."

"Glad I could help," Iron Man said. He shifted behind Steve, clearly getting ready to move away from him.

Steve placed one hand on Iron Man's metal-covered thigh to keep him in place a little longer. "I guess you're not going to let me reciprocate?" he tried.

"Some other time," Iron Man said.

That was a promise on its own: that there would be other times. Maybe one day, Iron Man would strip more of that armor and let Steve explore his body the way he'd explored Steve's tonight. Maybe one day, he'd let Steve see his face.

In place of the regret and sadness Steve had felt before Iron Man had showed up, there was now bright joy and hopefulness.

"Well, then, for the record, you're welcome to join me in the shower again anytime you wish," Steve said, in the flirtiest voice he could muster. "In armor or without."


End file.
